The letter
by Soulreciever
Summary: The discovery of a final letter from Seishiro will give him a new path and a new perspective on life. AU, Slash, Flurryverse 2.
1. Book

The letter.

1. Book.

T: The second story within the Flurry trio, though, for the moment, it's not necessary for you to read Flurry to understand this. I'd still appreciate a softer approach to the reviews. AU, slash, X 16+ spoilers and angst. I own nothing you see here other than the plot bunny.

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He'd felt the bridge shift beneath him as the last of the Kekkai's influence had faded and he had griped that little bit tighter to the body clutched in his arms. Kamui's delicate fingers had shifted that grip but a moment later and, though he had understood why the younger boy wished to keep him within this life, he had not been able to stop his body from struggling its way back to Seishiro's side.

He'd gripped again to the other's body, his fingers tracing the form of the other's mussels before coming to rest at the outer ridge of the other's coat pockets.

Again Kamui had come between them, as desperation in the harshness of his grip that had reached beneath his numb core and loosened his grip at last. Without the tension of his fingers holding them closed the coat pockets had opened the barest of inches and, with the incline of the body, given forth a final treasure.

He had taken the treasure from the tarmac and tucked it into his own pocket before Kamui could note the action and then he had fallen limp against the wiry strength of the younger boy's frame.

He had insisted that they leave him with the coat on, an oddity that no one had questioned perhaps because they feared damaging his fragile mentality or because they simply feared him.

Kamui had lingered a little while after the doctors had assured that he was, at least physically, well, then, without word, he had left him in the darkness.

He had sat there for a great while simply staring at the wall, his mind processing his thoughts with such swiftness that he would not later be able to recall what it was that he had been contemplating or even if he had been contemplating anything at all.

Eventually his fingers had fallen to his pocket and to the treasure contained within.

It was a simple envelope with his name printed in delicate kanji across the front side and, if not for the familiarity of the script, he would have simply allowed it to fall into the river with the bridge.

Yet he knew that hand almost as well as he knew his own and, though it felt almost as though he were playing a game still, he was curious as to what was contained within the envelope and why Seishiro had believed the contents important enough to bring to an encounter he had not planned on leaving alive.

His fingers clumsy for the sudden increase of his heartbeat and slick with sweat he had opened the envelope and, a hard, unknown, emotion balled hard in his stomach, pulled free the slip of paper inside.

There are but three things scrawled on the paper, the first is his name, the kanji uncertain this time as though written in haste or under the pressure of some intense emotion. The second is an address and a set of numbers that, for the moment, mean nothing to him, this written as precisely as possible so as to elevate all possible error. The final thing scrawled onto the letter is the name of its creator and the same words that that man had spoken to him with his dying breath.

He traces his fingers across the kanji of this final line and he can all but feel the heat of the other's breath on his cheek, can all but smell the scent of his skin and can all but hear the cracked whisper of those senseless words in his ear.

He allows himself to wallow in the exquisite agony of his grief for a few brief moments and then, his mind feverish for the thought of what lies in wait for him at the address upon the letter, he awaits Kamui's return.

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He had given Kamui the final pieces of his lives story, the pieces that he had been keeping tight to his heart since Hokuto had left his side forever. He had intended this knowledge to be as warning to the boy, had hoped that Kamui might see the parallels between their lives before it became too late and he was left with no choice other than the wrong one.

Kamui was not yet, however, at a point where he could see such a message and, pulled in by that naivety he'd ended out saying so much more than he had thought to. Kamui had reacted to that honesty all but instantly and, had he not seen the warning, the boy would have exposed his own truths, would have given over something that he could not return in kind.

As it was he had recognised the tightening about the other's eyes for what it was and had fielded such a confession by first turning the conversation and then, subtly, pushing the boy from the room.

He had lingered but a moment after that, taking the time to bid farewell to the scars upon his hands and all that they had given him, both good and ill. Then, the envelope pushed deep into his pocket, he had stepped from one life and into another.

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The address leads him to a small library that is filled with oblique titles and texts that are almost as old as some of those that grace the shelves of the Clan library.

He wonders the small labyrinth for a great while, simply taking in the atmosphere and the sense of history that seems to be permeating from the tomes and then he makes his way back to the clerk's desk.

The gentleman manning the desk today seems younger than is fitting for a place of such prestige and it is with a touch of cynicism that he enquires, "Would you know what these numbers mean?" as he scribes the digits into one of the many pieces of blank paper that grace the desk.

The clerk stares at the digits for a long while and then informs him,

"It's a reference number…something in the botany section by the look of it…bare with me a moment, will you?" He enquires as he rounds the desk and heads off into the labyrinth.

He returns ten minutes later a thick red book tucked under his right arm and a key clenched into the fingers of his left hand.

"This is the book that your reference number was referring too and this was left with it." The gentleman remarks as he passes over both the book and the key.

He runs his fingers across the cover of the book, tracing the deep set golden kanji that dominate the fabric he enquires,

"Is there somewhere that I could sit and read this?"

"We've a small room in the back," The clerk responds before gesturing towards a small door to their right and informing him, "It's through there."

"Thank you." He bows deeply despite the fact that the clerk is neither his better or one to whom he owes any significant dept of gratitude and then he makes his way into the back room.

The air seems heavier in this part of the library; something that he supposes is due to the sudden decrease in the amount of light within the room and that only helps add to the feeling of anticipation that has been building in his stomach.

He takes the time to settle himself into one of the many chairs dotting the space and to lease the wards that have hidden the bloodstains upon his clothing. Only once he feels completely relaxed does he again raise the book up to eye level and read again the title pressed into the surface before him,

'The art of growing sakura.'

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T: I had originally intended this to be a one shot like flurry but enthusiasm caught me and thus we have a multiparter. I'll attempt to get the next chapter up Tuesday but I make no huge promises given that the release of this chapter was a day later than anticipated! Please review (and be constructive even if you can't be nice!)


	2. Box

2. Box.

T: Warnings remain the same as in the first chapter, though I'd like to add an 'insane theory' warning for however much more of this fic there is! I own nothing you see here other than the afore mentioned insane theories!

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The book is filled with complex horticultural knowledge on the tending of sakura trees and he is beginning to believe that the matter has been little more than a final joke from Seishiro when his eyes catch a familiar symbol drawn into the corner of a page.

The page in question is filled with a detailed watercolour of a sakura in full bloom, the vivid hue of the blossoms depicted with such realism that they seem almost to jump from the page. Tangled in the routs of the tree, just above the pentagram that had initially caught his attention, the artist has depicted what seems to be the top edge of a wooden casket.

Recalling the key that the clerk had handed to him he closes the book and, as calmly as possible, he makes his way out towards the tree.

The sakura seems somehow less than it had the last he had seen it, an impression he is certain is more psychosomatic than actual and yet still he can not squash the compulsion to touch the Tree and to say,

"I am sorry."

The branches seem almost to curl about him then and he leans towards that odd comfort a moment before crouching down and settling his fingers into the roots. The box is not contained within the loose topsoil and he has just risen up onto his feet with the intent of fetching a spade, when the Tree's roots lift a little to the left.

Leaning back downwards he lifts the box from the soil and, reaching out again for the Tree, he says, "Thank you," before he takes his precious burden back to his apartment.

It has been many weeks since he had last seen his home, his injury and subsequent events having pushed him into staying a while with the Seals. The layer of dust upon the little furniture that graces the space is, as with the volume of messages on his answering machine, a testament to that abandonment and, setting the box carefully to one side, he does what he can to make the place 'presentable' again.

He hesitates a moment before simply erasing the messages on the machine, the small stab of guilt he feels erased quickly by the thought that the messages had been intended for a man who no longer exists, who died the day that the Rainbow Bridge fell.

He fixes a small lunch and, settling down onto his sofa, he turns his attention again to the matter of the box.

He unlocks the box with the key given to him by the clerk and, pushing away a sudden wave of nerves; he opens the lid and exposes a ream of carefully folded pieces of paper.

Each slip is carefully dated with Seishiro's precise hand and, curious, he opens out the earliest slip.

'Today I was introduced to the man that I am to name my father. He is more open than 'mother' and much more powerful. 'Mother' has told me that 'father' is a powerful Omnyoji and that he will be teaching me that art, I asked why I needed such training when I would have the Tree to support me and, for the first time since I have known her, 'mother' had no answer. Later I asked 'father' the same question and he told me that I had to learn to be independent, to form a life beyond 'mother' and the Tree. It seemed such an intriguing notion and I have decided that I wish to learn more of the man who made it. To that end I have begun to research 'father's' family and I have decided to keep notes for the sake of prosperity,'

The words are intriguing, not simply for how deeply personal they are but also for their subject matter. Often he has wondered what Seishiro's childhood must have been and, having no want to squander the opportunity to find out, he opens out the next slip in the sequence.

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He reads for what seems like a life time, processing the information held within each small snapshot of Seishiro's life and learning more of the man than he had ever believed possible.

The slips are now reaching closer to the date where they had first met and he has begun to slow his pace, fearful of seeing the level of significance Seishiro had placed on the meeting and learning, at last, the level of truth contained within the other's final words.

Eventually he reaches a slip dated the day before the encounter and, his fingers trembling just barely, he opens it out.

'Today mother died. Father said that she had wished for such a thing, that it was not fair of us to keep her here when she had no more want to stay and yet…the last that I talked to her mother had asked me to kill her, she told me that, more than anything else in the world, she wished to die at the hands of the one she loved the most. For some reason I could not agree to that request and she hit me, told me that I was a disappointment and then instructed me to leave the house. Father came to get me a day after that, telling me that mother was sorry and that I belonged with them in that house…I had believed that an end to the matter, that mother would die as any other and then this occurred. I asked father why she had allowed him to do what I could not and he told me that she had not…told me that she had believed that I had been the one to kill her. When I asked him to explain why he would do such a thing he smiled and told me "It was fate." I pressed him for further explanation and he told me the truth of his situation…of my situation. It seems that the life I have believed in, that I have given over everything for, has been little more than a lie.'

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T: A bit of a nasty place to leave it, I know, but hopefully you'll forgive me that fact! Next chapter should be up Friday at the latest, until then why not review?


	3. Bloodline

3. Bloodline.

T: Big thanks to both my reviewers and I've made a note of Check's grievances…hopefully this will be an error free chapter! Also an E cookie for Ruth for correctly guessing who the 'father' mentioned in the previous chapter is! Warnings and disclaimer remain the same.

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The words on the page before him sound so unlike the Seishiro that he had come to know that, for an instant, he believes them little more than false sentiment. It is only one he re-reads the words, once he sees the cold steal behind the inflamed sense of betrayal that the words upon the slip contain, that he understands that they are true.

He finds that he is more curious to learn what Seishiro's 'father' could have done to pull such a response from the other, than to discover the purpose behind the Bet and thus, when he sees that the next slip in the sequence is dated after the instigation of the Bet, he is not as disappointed as he could have been.

This slip is cut longer than its predecessors, the hand on the page filled now with a strong confidence that had, until this moment, been lacking.

'I have decided that if I am to get that which I truly desire I must play the game his way. To that end I have cast aside reality and embedded myself, wholeheartedly, into his fiction. I am, from this moment, Sakurazukamori, tainted with the murder of the woman I had named mother and with the lives of countless others. These lives have been used to feed the Tree, to maintain the blossoms and to keep me strong. I shall feel no emotion and love but only once, that love shall be the thing that will end my life and pass on this fiction to another. He does not know that I have taken such a choice for I have allowed him to believe that grief has driven the memory of the past few days from my mind. The lie was simple enough and I believe that I shall quickly become use to the feel of such things upon my lips, believe that, before long, I shall not even recall that I am lying. For the moment, however, the lingering traces of my old life and the content that I felt within it ghost my every action. I can not help think that it would be better if I simply allowed the illusion of his world to completely become my reality and took a life and yet I know that, no matter what it would give me, I could not do such a thing. I find it so very odd that an action which, but a month previous, seemed so innocuous to me becomes now the greatest of offence, though I suppose, even then, it was not in me to kill.'

He gently folds the slip, places it, carefully, down upon all the others that he has read and then he leans down to pick up the phone. After a few moments of polite conversation he places the phone back down onto the hook and goes to have a shower.

Once out of the shower he is struck with an urge to put back on his bloodstained clothes and read the last few slips of paper contained within the box. It is a compulsion he resists simply for the knowledge that, should he succumb, his life would become as stagnant as it had in the weeks leading up to his 'reunion' with Seishiro at Nago Sun.

He takes the earliest train possible out to Kyoto, the long train journey giving him chance to empty his mind of all irrelevant concerns and to prepare himself for what awaited him once he reached his destination.

His grandmother receives him as warmly as her nature will allow and he suffers her gentle admonishment of his behaviour in order to acknowledge that warmth and all that it had once been to him.

She asks the maid to prepare tea and, only once the liquid is before him does he say,

"I have not come for a social visit, Obaachan."

"My sectary made me aware of that fact."

"Then I would ask you to give me the library keys."

"You should not be in such a rush, Subaru. I am certain that you need is not pressing enough that you can not spare a moment to have tea with me." The words are as the most tentative of peace offerings and it saddens him that she has left such a thing so very late.

"Obaachan, after today I shall not again be returning to this place, nor shall I acknowledge myself as head of this clan and so I do not think it appropriate for me to drink tea with you."

"Then the future that I saw all those long years ago has finally come true." She remarks before she pulls a key from her sleeve and places it directly between the two of them.

Standing he picks the key from the matting and, bowing deeply, he says, "good bye, Obaachan," before he leaves the room.

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The clan library contains well over a thousand books and yet he is familiar enough with its layout that it takes him but a moment to find those focusing upon the subject that he is interested in.

The first few books that he takes from the shelves contain little more information upon the Sakurazukamori than that which his grandmother had given him when he was 16, despite the infuriation contained within that fact he pushes onwards and, eventually, his perseverance pays off.

Contained amid the pages of a dusty and moth eaten book is a reproduction of the first ever historical account of the Sakurazuka and he reads the words with great care.

'Eventually so many souls were simply mislaid that an Omnyoji was called for in order to investigate the problem. After extensive research the Omnyoji concluded that the sakura at the village's centre was at the heart of the occurrences and, being still new to his profession, he sought out advice on the best way to suppress the evil within the tree. It was unfortunate that those in whom he trusted were in fact responsible for the malicious nature of the tree and the advice that they offered the Omnyoji was little more than fiction intended to lead him to his death. It became very swiftly clear that, rather than die, the Omnyoji lingered within the tree, his soul screaming out for the blood of others in order to maintain this corrupted existence.'

The writer of the book then attempts to connect those that had corrupted the tree to those who would later become referred to as Sakurazukamori and yet it is clear, simply by the phrasing of the words, that he has little more than conjecture to substantiate his claims.

An odd feeling settles into his stomach and, wishing to eradicate this sensation, he scans through each of the books contained within the section.

Five hours later he understands that his initial fear had, indeed, been correct, understands that, before the appearance of Seishiro's mother, the entity known as the 'Sakurazukamori' had been little more than a legend.

Yet who was the man that Seishiro had called, until his apparent betrayal, father and why had he pushed Seishiro's mother into making the legend a reality?

He was assured that the answer to these questions was hidden somewhere within the remaining slips within the box and yet it became clearer to him that those slips also contained answers to questions he had never wanted answers for, or that he had been too afraid to ask.

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T: Slightly shorter than its predecessors but this felt like the best place to end things! I'll attempt to get the next chapter up Tuesday, though it's more likely that it'll get posted wed! Please review, I'm desperate for opinions on this even if they are negative!


	4. Bet

4. Bet.

T: This is the last Chapter, I've chosen to keep it short in order to heighten the tension and get the mood right for the last flurryverse fic and thus there will be loose ends! Apart from this warnings remain the same. I own nothing you see here other than the logic and the plot bunny!

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There are but three unread slips within the box, each dated but a year before he and Seishiro had met again amid the wreckage of the Nago Sun apartment blocks.

The first is little more than basic observation upon the passage of time and how well Seishiro has adapted to his new persona.

The second is written with such a shaking hand that, if not for the familiar curving script, it could almost belong to someone other than Seishiro.

'Today he told me that I was to be involved in the battle for the end of the world, informed me that my presence was necessary to bring a balance to proceedings. Simply for the phrasing of his words I knew that he expected me to participate as Sakurazukamori, as one for the 'Dragons of Earth' and so sickened was I by the thought of participating in such destruction that I, at last, played my hand. He regarded me for a great while after I had spoken my truths and then, that familiar smile on his lips, he informed me, "There is more to this than you understand, Seishiro." I asked him for explanation and he informed me that I would be given such a thing in "goodtime".'

The last slip contains three sheets of paper, each carefully numbered as a show of the sequence in which they should be read.

'Today he brought me to the Tree, to the source of his powers and to that which, for the moment, is as his only true physical presence in this world. "I have a story to tell you." He was smiling that empty smile once again and, though I was weary of what would come of such a thing I informed him, "Then tell me."

"One the day after I killed Setsuka a boy came to this Tree, he was young and yet the power he held was of a strength that I have not seen since the first I met Setsuka. He recognised the Tree for what it was…heard the voices within the flurry…and he tried to tame them. Such a thing is all but useless now, for the flurry has grown so very wild that even I struggle to keep it satisfied and, having no want for the child to hurt himself, I wove an illusion about us. There was a charm to the child and I decided that, when he was a little older, I would play a little game with him and so I marked him with my star. Many long years later I found the boy again and I played my game, wove him tight into my illusion and then, as I have done with you, I allowed him to see the truth."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I went to the boy in your form, twisted and tainted him as Sakurazukamori rather than Sakurazuka."

"Who was the boy?"

"The thirteenth head of the Sumeragi clan."' He feels oddly disconnected from himself once he has reached the conclusion of the first sheet, as though he is viewing his thoughts and feelings through misted glass.

Filled with this sense of disjointedness he turns to the second sheet.

'I have spent a month talking to those who knew the 13th head of the Sumeragi clan before he was tainted, learning of the boy who had so fascinated the Sakurazuka and, without truly wanting to, of the man that boy has become. Once or twice I believed I saw him out of the corner of my eye, his fey appearance entrancing and at the same time so very cold. I have become intoxicated by the idea of finding him, of telling him the truth and healing the scars that the Sakurazuka has caused him and yet…there is one scar that I can not heal, a pain that the Sakurazuka has caused that entrancing thing that nothing can erase. For, while encased within the illusion of my form, the Sakurazuka has killed that man's twin sister. I have decided to ask him why he has done such a thing, have decided to learn this final truth and then I shall cut my ties with him forever…shall become a man without a family name or connections to support him in the world.' He takes a moment to process the knowledge that his sister had died at the hands of the Sakurazuka rather than the Sakurazukamori and then he turns to the final sheet.

'Having been given his logic I have decided that I can not allow his crimes to go unpunished, have decided that I shall wear the mantle of the Sakurazukamori for one last time, for, if the Sakurazukamori takes part in the final battle then the head of the Sumeragi clan must also be involved. I shall allow that man to exact his revenge on me, shall allow him to do what he believes necessary to eradicate the pain of his sisters death and, perhaps, in doing as such, I shall at last have found a purpose to my life.'

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T: To see the loose ends tied up and to see how Subaru reacts to this final piece of information please read 13 as and when it appears. For those that are happy to leave things where they are thank you very much for reading and perhaps you'd like to review before you go??


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